


agent disaster, reporting for duty

by iceprinceofbelair



Category: The Spy Who Dumped Me (2018)
Genre: Coffee, F/F, Gen, it's technically gen but i mean morgan is useless and gay so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 13:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15797688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceprinceofbelair/pseuds/iceprinceofbelair
Summary: Morgan shows up on Monday. And the next day. And the next. And the next. And th-





	agent disaster, reporting for duty

Morgan does, in fact, show up on Monday. She never did get an answer about how Government Beyonce takes her coffee - Sebastian had been absolutely no help - so she decides to play it safe and order a black americano. She spends a long time debating whether or not to add sugar. She’s certain that, if anyone could stomach plain black coffee, it’d be that MI6 goddess. In the end, she adds two sugars because even badass secret agents need a little sweetness in their lives.

She runs into Sebastian as she’s approaching the building.

“Please tell me the boss is expecting you,” he says, eyeing the Starbucks cup in her hand suspiciously. 

“I told her I’d be here,” says Morgan, unwaveringly confident as always. 

Sebastian flashes his security pass but Morgan is stopped roughly by a security guard whose arms are probably as thick as her head. 

“Identification, ma’am,” he says.

Morgan pulls out her work ID card and hands it over with a cheerful smile. The security guard is unimpressed.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he says but Morgan stands her ground. 

“I’m with Sebastian,” she says, looking pointedly at the man who was now trying not to look at her. “Seb, I swear to God, if you walk away from me now, I’ll tell Audrey you’re a traitor and she will never sleep with you and you’ll die alone.”

Sebastian looks conflicted. “You really should go home, Morgan. You don’t really want this life.”

“I do,” says Morgan. “Look, I brought coffee for that incredible boss of yours. She has to say yes.”

“I think you underestimate her quite dramatically,” says Sebastian, raising his eyebrows. The security guard is still staring at Morgan which might be intimidating if she were anyone but herself. “She isn’t going to give you a gun because you’re unusually persistent and brought her a Starbucks.”

Morgan is undeterred. “That is absolutely what she’ll do. Come on, Seb.”

Sebastian sighs. “I can’t take you inside. I just got my job back and I’d like to keep it but I’ll give that to the boss if you really want me to.”

“You’re a genius,” she says, holding the cup out to Sebastian with a grin. “Make sure you tell her she’s both powerful and sexy.”

“I will do nothing of the sort,” says Sebastian.

And he leaves.

~

After waiting outside the building the majority of the day, Morgan decides to cut her losses and heads back to the hotel. Audrey has gone home but Morgan is nothing if not persistent. She will see that gorgeous being again if it’s the last thing she does and, given that said being is a top player in international espionage, it just might.

The following morning, Morgan arrives early to make sure she catches Sebastian on his way in. She’d spent the night considering ways she might sneak past security before ultimately admitting that the British secret service is probably suitably protected against her limited resources. Still, wouldn’t that be a statement? Sneaking into the building would be undeniable proof of her potential as a spy.

Still, she’s not keen on dying right now. So she gives Sebastian another Starbucks cup on his way inside (a cappuccino this time) and settles down to wait. She tries to make conversation with the security guard but he’s distinctly unpersonable. He reminds her of the guards who stand outside the Queen’s palace in London. She wonders if all security guards in Britain are trained like this.

“Europe is so badass,” she mutters, gazing up at the building and trying to figure out which window belongs to the badass woman in white. Would her office even have a window? That sounds like a security threat. The idea that she works in a windowless, high tech room makes Morgan even more excited to get inside.

_ Be cool,  _ she thinks to herself.  _ You’ll get there.  _

~

Three days and three coffees later, Morgan is still waiting for her invitation upstairs. She’d tried a skinny caffè latte, an iced caffè americano, and an iced caramel macchiato but nothing had worked so far. In all honestly, the macchiato had been an attempt to change the pace and make sure she wasn’t becoming completely predictable. That was a positive quality in a spy, right?

The look Sebastian gives her today is equal parts amusement and pity.

“I hate to burst your bubble but I’m not sure this plan of yours is doing much to endear you to the boss,” he says and suddenly Morgan remembers the question that has been burning at the back of her mind for almost a week now.

“What’s her name?” she blurts excitedly, shoving a venti green tea into his hands. 

Sebastian hesitates. Morgan has run through a thousand possibilities and not a single one has seemed both feminine and badass enough to capture the pure power this woman radiates. Now, as she waits for Sebastian to reveal the secrets of the universe to her, she can’t stop herself from bouncing on her heels.

“That’s classified,” says Sebastian and Morgan lets out an involuntary shriek.

“No fucking way,” she gasps, delight quickly overtaking her momentary disappointment. “Are you kidding me? She’s  _ that  _ badass? This is some James Bond  _ shit  _ right here. Is that what’s going on here? Is she the M to your 007?” Before Sebastian can answer, a better possibility presents itself and Morgan all but yells, “is  _ she  _ 007?”

Sebastian gives a snort of laughter. “No, she’s not a field agent anymore.”

“Anymore?” Morgan whispers. 

Images of Sebastian’s boss -  _ her  _ boss, she corrects, because she’s all about willing things into existence - in a tailored suit and fitted blouse spring unbidden to the forefront of Morgan’s mind and she finds herself absolutely weak at the knees. She imagines the shoot out at the restaurant and sees her taking out man after man with unwavering precision.

She needs to sit down.

“I think she used to be,” says Sebastian with a shockingly unamused shrug. “Nobody knows much about her.”

“Holy shit.”

She definitely needs to sit down.

~

When Morgan drops off a passion tea lemonade the following morning, she’s written [CLASSIFIED] on the side in red sharpie. 

The frappuccino she delivers the next has [REDACTED] in black. 

The next day, she brings a hot chocolate with marshmallows  _ and  _ cream because she’s running out of ideas. And who doesn’t like hot chocolate? She considers drawing something cute on the lid but decides against it. She doesn’t think Aphrodite will be won over by hearts and stars. She needs to show this woman she’s serious. 

When the next morning rolls around, Morgan sits bolt upright in bed and is standing in line at Starbucks within half an hour. She can’t believe it’s taken her this long to bring her plain old tea. She’s British. Of course she likes tea. This is it. She is absolutely certain that this is the winner.

When she isn’t immediately invited upstairs upon reception of this ingeniously chosen beverage, she feels, for the first time, a flash of futility.

“Aren’t you tired of waiting out here all day?” Sebastian asks curiously.

“A lesser mortal might be discouraged in the face of such adversity,” says Morgan wisely. “But I will not give up.”

“Have you ever heard that the definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over and expecting different results?”

“It’s not insanity, it’s persistence,” Morgan argues. “And besides it’s not the same. It’s a different drink every day. I’m changing a variable every time. It’s practically a science experiment. I could publish in academic journals.”

If nothing else, it’s nice to talk to Sebastian. He and Audrey were really hitting it off before she went home. Morgan prides herself on being an excellent wingwoman. She’s not going to let Sebastian slip away from Audrey. 

He does, however, slip away from her and inside when she’s distracted by this thought.

~

When her flat white peace offering fails on day eleven, Morgan decides that she’ll try one more time. She orders a vanilla latte, her own personal favourite, and sprinkles some cinnamon and chocolate on top. Unexpectedly, she finds herself relentlessly anxious. She’s given herself this ultimatum but she doesn’t want this to be over. She wants this job like she’s never wanted anything before. 

She’s so lost in her own anxious mind that she doesn’t realise she’s arrived until her legs stop walking of their own accord. Her hands are shaking. And Sebastian is nowhere in sight. Naturally.

With nothing to lose, she approaches the security guard who blocked her from entering the building twelve days ago.

“Could you make sure this gets to Sebastian Henshaw?” she says. 

The security guard eyes her, his face betraying nothing of his intentions, and she fights to keep the smile on her face. Without taking his eyes off of her, he steps deliberately to the side and says, “Go straight ahead and take the lift to the fourth floor.”

Morgan’s heart stops. 

He’s letting her in.

She nods once, failing miserably to keep her excitement in check at the thought of being in the same building as the woman who has occupied her every waking thought these past two weeks. She has to remind herself to breathe as she steps into the elevator and presses the button for the fourth floor. She bounces on her heels until the doors close. Alone, she breaks into an energetic, gleeful dance. 

Persistence is the key to success. She should write a book.  _ How to get what you want by wearing people down.  _ The other Morgan Freeman might sign on to read the audiobook. People could start to call her Morgan Freewoman in conversation so they wouldn’t confuse her with the other Morgan Freeman. She could have a fanbase called Morganisms. Maybe she’d get to meet Ellen!

As the elevator comes to an unceremonial stop, Morgan takes a moment to straighten her clothes and take a deep breath. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face right now if she tried.

She finds herself in a quiet corridor. The ceiling is high and the walls are exposed brick. Setting off, she does her best to walk with purpose, to look like she belongs here. If she has anything to say about it, she will belong here. She wants to belong here.

It doesn’t take her long to find the area where she and Audrey had first encountered the mystery woman. For a moment, she’s uncertain. Should she knock? Should she wait? Ah, fuck it. She’s not about to waste what limited time she might have inside this place wondering who should make the first move.

She knocks. 

And there’s silence. Smile wavering slightly, she knocks again.

Footsteps. High heels on carpeted floors. Morgan holds her breath.

The door opens.

And there she is. She’s wearing a white silk blouse and black pencil skirt that hugs her curves in all the right places. Her heels are somewhere between sensible and fashionable and her blonde hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail. 

Stunned into silence, all Morgan can do is present her final offering with a hopelessly optimistic grin.

“The cinnamon was a nice touch,” says Government Beyonce without taking a sip.

Morgan gapes. “How-”

“I’m the head of the British Secret Service, Morgan,” she replies, taking a pointed sip of her drink. The drink Morgan brought for her. Her drink. “I am absolutely tracking the credit card purchases of the suspicious woman who stakes out my office every day.”

Morgan’s grin doesn’t waver. “It’s such an honour to meet you. Again. Officially, I mean.”

“This is in no way official,” Government Beyonce sighs, leading the way into her office. (It does have a window.) As she meanders to her desk, she continues, “You are not an employee here, Morgan. You were caught up in something you should never have been exposed to and, on behalf of the agency, I must apologise to you for that.”

Morgan senses that she isn’t finished and she has absolutely no desire to interrupt the words of a literal angel sent from heaven to grace the earth with her presence.

“However, you are, apparently, remarkably persistent. As chaotic and disruptive as your presence on this past mission was, I cannot deny that it was a success. I am not a woman easily impressed but I want to say that the resilience both you and Audrey displayed is commendable. This does not mean, however,” she continues, anticipating Morgan’s imminent outburst, “that you will be officially assigned to the field as part of this organisation. You don’t have the training or the background. It would be entirely irresponsible on my part to put you back out there.”

Morgan is barely listening. She’s feeling quite weak at the knees. This is the most she’s heard this woman say at one time and her accent is absolutely heavenly. 

Government Beyonce snaps her fingers in front of Morgan’s face. “Morgan, are you listening?”

“What’s your name?” says Morgan, entirely by accident. Her heart stops as soon as the words leave her mouth.

“Agent 008,” she replies, without missing a beat and Morgan is about to lose her fucking shit.

“No fucking way! That’s a real thing? Like, martini shaken not stirred and exploding radios and rings with knives hidden in them?” She gushes, bouncing on her heels in excitement. She can feel her entire body shaking. She’s pretty sure she can feel her teeth shaking.

Government Beyonce rolls her eyes. “Of course it’s not real, Morgan. There is no double-oh division.”

For a moment, Morgan is crushingly disappointed. But then, the angel before her stretches out her free hand and says, “Wendy Palmer. Head of the SIS.”

Starstruck, Morgan reaches forward to shake Wendy’s hand, expecting electricity and fire and ice all at once. In the end, it’s nothing particularly special. It’s firm but not overly so. Her hands are softer than Morgan had expected. But, all in all, the only thing special about this particular handshake is that Morgan is still convinced she’s shaking hands with perfection herself.

Wendy. 

Morgan isn’t sure what kind of badass, mysterious name she’d expected the head of the British Intelligence Service to have. Maybe something more like Hermione or Lara or Juno. Or maybe she’d expected something more like 008 - maybe a letter like Judi Dench’s M. She’s not sure. But she hadn’t expected Wendy.

“Women can be feminine and badass,” she says, finishing her thought out loud as Wendy takes another sip of her coffee. “Y’know, when Sebastian told me your name was classified, I thought-”

But Morgan never finishes her sentence because Wendy almost chokes on her coffee. “When did he tell you that?” she asks, something resembling a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

And that’s when it all clicks for Morgan.

“That rat bastard!” she exclaims, making for the door. When she gets there, she turns to find Wendy trying hard to hide her amusement and says, “Enjoy your coffee, boss. I’ll be back when I’ve beaten his ass.”

With that, she sets off at a furious pace down the hall without quite knowing where she’s going.

Wendy’s voice calls from behind her. “Second floor, third door on your left.”

Oh, Morgan is so gonna kick his ass.


End file.
